October 2018

Sunday, October 28, 2018

On the day when the weight deadens on your shoulders and you stumble, may the clay dance to balance you. And when your eyes freeze behind the grey window and the ghost of loss gets in to you, may a flock of colours, indigo, red, green, and azure blue come to awaken in you a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays in the currach of thought and a stain of ocean blackens beneath you, may there come across the waters a path of yellow moonlight to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours, may the clarity of light be yours, may the fluency of the ocean be yours, may the protection of the ancestors be yours. And so may a slow wind work these words of love around you, an invisible cloak to mind your life.

Tuesday, October 23, 2018

The bottom two were gifts from Jude. Top right came from a piece of Liberty cloth from our trip to London a few years ago. The blue...just a beautiful blue. Last week I was told, "make yourself a quilt." I think my eyes rolled at the idea. So many things that need doing, should be done.

Yesterday, a second grader came into the art room as mad as could be. He wasn't going to sit, do, or even look at what he should. He was having none of it. I sat down next to him. He was sitting on his stool backwards, facing away from the table with arms crossed, "I'm not going to tell you why I'm so angry!"

Of course, he really wanted someone to know why he was so mad. A few slow questions later, I heard about the tiff that had happened on the playground right before class. Once he told his side of things, he was able to turn around, and relax into his art. I love how kids let go and move on.

That was yesterday. Today I was tired, dropped the ball left and right (pencils and scissors, too), and, at best, was mediocre. At one point a child screamed. Ms. T. and I looked at each other across the room. "I might try that, too," I muttered.

"Don't you dare."

Yesterday, stitching these four squares, and then putting them together, was very satisfying. There is much to love about blue squares.

And that red dotted cloth is so lovely. (Jude talked about it here.) It was stitched to a plain muslin square for support. A corner was snipped off and flipped over, because I didn't want to lose the view of the other side of those sweet clipped dots. It didn't quite go as planned, but I let it go and moved on. And in the process there were some new ideas for another day.

Today I'm too tired to stitch, and am just sitting here with these soft blue squares.

Maybe a very slow quilt, a square here and there, of cloths that are gifts, memories, and loved. A way to hold them, and eventually they might hold me back. We'll see.

Sunday, October 21, 2018

Friday morning Moon stayed home with a bad cold. By midday, feeling a little sniffly myself, I went to the store for soup makings. There were only two leeks to be found and the recipe called for six, and then the search for buttermilk for the biscuits Moon wanted took way too long. Leaving the store feeling weepy, I wondered if maybe I was sick, too? Ha. An hour later I was in bed shivering and sweating with a piercing headache into yesterday. (There were even dreams of my head being used as a pincushion.) K. took very good care... tucking in the quilts, bringing juice and a pretty leaf from the beautiful autumn going on outside.

Today I'm upright, feeling much better, eating some, knitting a little (on the never-going-to-be-finished afghan), and being glad that at least it was a quick virus. Maybe I'll make that soup tomorrow?

Thursday, October 18, 2018

A few skies and seas have been finished up. Looking at them, I think there's something about things cracking wide open going on. A feeling, or a wish? I'm not sure. Either way, the results seem to be deep star, and hope, filled spaces.

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

"This crayon is named apricot, because it's the color of a fruit that's called apricot. Have you ever seen an apricot fruit? It's like a small peach."

"This is not a peachy crayon, it's an apricot crayon! You can't eat crayons!"

And so the conversation with this first grader went, as he colored layer after layer on only a few spots of his owl. He is usually a happy boy, and he is on the spectrum. He loves art, and we always discuss the rainbows on the wall (there are three!), and he always falls apart when it's time to stop. I don't blame him. Today there was extra frustration when the crayon he chose turned out to be pink not red, and even more when it happened again. And then I realized he was throwing the unwanted pink crayons into the recycle can behind him. He couldn't have pink crayons at his table because boys don't use pink... well, that was another conversation.

We talk and talk, along with the other cheery boy at the table, who wants to manage everything and everyone, except himself. Try as he might, he couldn't convince me to trade my owl for his. Coloring and chatting (along with a little wrangling) with these characters is very good stuff.

Friday, October 12, 2018

Maybe folks are tired of seeing this piece? But it's consuming, filling, pulling and pushing me. Today, looking at this "stair" space. Thinking about light, lightness- how it lets us see through and clearly, and lifts.

Pink was added into the cracks of it. You might think that is the light, cheering things up in the dark corners, but pink is part of the weight here. I've talked about pink before, and am at peace with it now. Still, when it comes to the past, it represents squashing oppressive slaps in the face feelings.

And now adding blue dots to wander through it all. The cool peace of blue. Blue that holds space, endless possibilities & hope. Remembering the conversation with the contractor twenty years ago, holding the light robin's egg blue paint chip out to him in the soon to be bedroom. "You don't want blue, it's cold, you won't feel relaxed in here."

"Blue," I said. I still love it, and if I had the energy, the rest of the house would be the same color.

Tuesday, October 09, 2018

This is turning into a wild ride. Pushing through the unknown, creating connections, intersections, and responding along the way. A bunch of unstitching happened, and I loved the flashes that led to them. When the ways through showed themselves- light bulb moments. There has been lots of "what if-ing"...in how the moon garden might grow, and where that wandering black line might go. And many sudden knowings- the jar, a rainbow star, and today the name..."Soul Song".

Days are flying by. This year I'm especially loving the kindergarten and first graders. There is a child or two in each of the classes that usually does better with extra attention. I sit with them, we draw, paint, talk about Frida Kahlo, owls, rainbows, etc. There is encouraging, managing, and a grabbing of wayward paint brushes as needed. Some days it feels like a three-ring circus, it always feels like a whirlwind, often with lots to laugh about afterwards.

It's all connected- why I work with children, this and other cloths, the past, now, and the going... It's all part of the same story. I can't quite sort it all out yet, but it feels like it's coming.

Friday, October 05, 2018

Last summer's clearing, cleaning and rearranging created a much better living room situation. After a few years of it being more of a chaotic studio than a family space, everyone was pretty happy with the new set up. BUT...now that autumn has arrived, complete with less daylight and rainy days, stitching is becoming harder. The other day I found myself standing by the window while trying to work on a detailed spot. I foresee another rearranging, one that gets a chair back near the window...soon.

Today's dark skies were too much for these tired eyes. Moon's (hopefully) Christmas quilt was pulled out. It's already a wonky make-shift of a thing, so tidy stitches aren't important. It was good to work on it. He's been such a teenager lately, just as he's supposed to be. Even so, exasperation and exhaustion fill me. Slow mindless stitching let calmer thoughts come, remembering why I wanted to make these blue quilts for each of the boys in the first place. Aside from their long selves needing more coverage, I just want to wrap myself around them- in care and protection. Hoping that someday, when all the angst of this growing-up and letting-go piece of time has passed, the quilts will be a reminder that underneath and around it all their grumpy tired mama loved them in her own wobbly way.

Wednesday, October 03, 2018

A moonlit garden and a jar of memories of hope are in the works. (The roots of the garden is a pretty patch gift from Jude.)

This piece is filling up, and happily not with the darkness that was expected, instead a whole lot of light is pouring in.

(And last night's dream...visiting a friend's house (that I've never met), going to a baseball game with her, where I caught ball after ball, until I was balancing an armload of baseballs, while still catching ball after ball...)